


paparazzi (i'll follow you until you love me)

by kurooos



Series: shangst week 2017 [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Captivity, Creepy Shiro, Kidnapping, M/M, Masturbation, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Shangst Week 2017, Stalking, Unhealthy Relationships, possessive shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2018-11-20 05:53:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11329872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurooos/pseuds/kurooos
Summary: Shiro becomes obsessed with Lance and wants everything to do with him. He stalks Lance and then kidnaps him, planning to take their relationship to the next level.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am in Niagara Falls right now and have been so busy, I didn't get to write this chapter the way I wanted to. It would be much longer and with much more detail were I not constantly busy ;;;;  
> But anyway, I hope you all enjoy, Day 4: Captivity

It all started with those blue eyes and a smile. It was, “And what can I do for you today?” said with an air of warmth and genuine curiosity. 

Shiro had gotten his typical coffee, an iced americano with an extra shot of espresso, and when he reached for his drink to take from the barista, he’d purposefully brushed his fingers over soft knuckles and smiled in appreciation. 

On the barista’s name tag was ‘Lance’, scribbled in all capital letters and followed with a winking smiley face. 

Lance had blushed softly as their fingers touched and he immediately withdrew his hand, hiding behind a customer service smile and a shaky, “Have a nice day, sir!” 

It wasn’t often that Shiro’s interests were taken, and taken so quickly. Shiro had a meeting to go to that morning within the hour but Shiro spent half of it sitting at a far table and scrolling on his phone. His eyes would come up every so often to take in Lance, smiling brightly at customers and chirping out pleasent queries and goodbyes. 

His skin rivaled that of the smooth and creamy coffee he served, flecked with a light spatter of freckles across his cheeks and nose. 

It drew in attention, brought people to be captivated by summer blue eyes and a white smile. 

Shiro picked up a few of the barista’s quirks within the fifteen minutes he watched him, that he always had some kind of music playing in his head, faster and with more rhythm than the classical piano music tinkling through the cafè speakers. His hips would sway to that unheard beat and when he was standing at the register with no work to do, his fingers were drumming it on the counter. 

He tidied the small cups lined in front of him, filled with little magnets and pins and trinkets that were to lure customers into spending a bit more money. 

The barista also talked to himself. Mostly under his breath and with such secrecy it would have gone undetected by most. But Shiro had his eyes firmly set on Lance, never leaving him as he twirled to make more caffeine for tired business people. 

When Shiro’s americano was half empty, and his phone buzzed with an angry text, it snapped him out of his staring. He pulled his phone in front of him and a half filled message box stared back at him from his locked screen. 

_ MATT HOLT:  _

‘ _ Your 8am interview is already here, dude where the h…’  _

Shiro didn’t want to unlock his phone and see the rest of the message. Yet with a sigh he stood up and did so anyway. 

‘ _ Your 8am interview is already here, dude where the hell are you? Did you get mugged? Should we send out the police? I’m going to be in so much shit if you slept in.’  _

_ ‘Please text back.’ _

_ ‘Shiro.’ _

_ ‘This isn’t funny anymore.’ _

The small grey bubble appeared when Shiro opened the messaged, revealing that Matt was still planning on messaging him further, and if Shiro didn’t stop him quickly his poor phone battery would die from the load. 

_ To Matt Holt: _

_ ‘I stopped to get coffee. The line was really long. On my way now.’  _

Shiro pocketed his phone and looked back to find Lance once last time, to look at him again and commit his face to memory but standing at the counter was a different barista, one with flour on his shirt sleeves and green apron, frantically pushing commands on the register while he nodded, trying to take multiple orders. The line had backed up significantly in the few seconds Shiro had looked down. 

With no time to dwell on it any longer, Shiro grabbed his coffee and left the little shop. He tugged his scarf up his chin, bearing against the cold and the falling snow as he walked down the sidewalk to his office. 

The interview was pointless, since all Shiro could keep thinking about was the cute barista with blue eyes and warm skin. Matt scolded him for zoning out during such important decisions. 

* * *

Shiro was making all the important decisions in his life though, during that stupid little interview. Shiro decided he wanted Lance. Wanted to know more about him, wanted to be his friend, wanted to be more. He wanted to  _ have _ him.

* * *

“Back again?” Lance laughed, elbow on the countertop to balance his squished up cheek, “are my americanos that good?”

Shiro watched him happily, a coy smile on his lips as he studied every way Lance moved and held himself. The way his eyes roamed over Shiro appreciatively. 

At least his suspicions were confirmed, Lance was totally into him. 

That morning, Shiro had pulled on one of his long sleeved henleys and dark washed jeans. He knew that the fabric of the shirt showed off his muscles, enough that it wouldn’t be overbearing but if someone wanted to dream a bit about what was underneath, they wouldn't have to think too hard. The dark navy color looked nice on him. It brought out his eyes and accentuated the angles of his face. It made him look more like a relaxed dad and less like a businessman with a night job as a hitman. 

Lance was totally digging the look, not at all trying to hide his stares. He smiled up at Shiro again and blinked, waiting for an answer.

“I’ll have to have a second one to really make a solid assessment.” Shiro said. 

Lance’s eyes checked behind Shiro to make sure there wasn’t a line before he held the man up. 

“Sure thing. Extra espresso, right?” Lance pushed away from the counter and tightened the straps of his apron behind him. Shiro took a quick look over Lance’s back. 

The barista looked lanky from afar but up close and with the right eyes, it was easy to see he was nothing but lithe muscle. Shiro wondered if Lance played a sport. Soccer? Baseball? Maybe he did track and swim. 

“I’m surprised you remember my order, it looked like it was really busy yesterday.” 

Lance shrugged one of his shoulders, working with no hurry as he put grounds into the machine and grabbed a cup. 

“I remember orders that come from interesting people.” 

“You find me interesting?” 

“Yeah, a bit. But not in a bad way. It’s a good interesting.” 

Lance turned around with the open americano, taking a plastic top from the stack and pushing it on. 

Shiro expected him to just hand it over, but when Shiro reached out, Lance held it back with a tut. 

Shiro frowned, watching Lance smile at him and then take a sharpie, wiggling it.

“Can I get a name for this americano?” 

Ah, now Shiro saw the game here. But he could play, no issues. He could also turn it to be in his favor, to get what he wanted. 

“Your number is just fine.” 

“Oh.” 

Lance muttered, eyes widening a bit before he chuckled and went to write on the cup, cheeks rosy. 

When he held it out for Shiro this time, and when Shiro brushed their fingertips, Lance didn’t jump away from him. 

“Thank you, Lance.” Shiro poked a straw into his drink, sipping at it and then turning to leave the cafe. 

Lance behind him made a flustered attempt to ask him to actually use that number on his drink, it wasn’t fake, and Shiro gave him a wave and said, ‘see you around’. 

* * *

And yes, Shiro did see Lance around. It was just a matter of waiting for Lance’s shift to end. 

He was the last to leave, twirling keys on his finger and then pocketing them as he came out of the side door of the cafè. He held his phone between his shoulder and cheek as he dug around in his bookbag, slung around to his front so he could dig something out of it, or put something inside, Shiro was too far to see, the angle was awkward.

With the camera Shiro had, he could see that Lance’s phone wasn’t in use though, simply being held while Lance finished up with his bag and then pushed it back into place on his back. 

Lance turned his phone on and text messages waited for him, filling the entire lock screen and then going further down. 

Shiro snapped a photo of it, planning to read what he could, see who all texted Lance during his work hours. 

Lance quickly pushed in his phone code, all zeros, and unlocked his phone. Now, Lance was getting too far away and Shiro had to move from his spot between buildings. He shrugged his coat on tighter around himself and looked up and down the street before stepping out, able to blend in behind a couple walking. 

Shiro left his camera hanging around his shoulders, instead taking his phone out to make it seem as if he too were coming home from work. No one spared him a glance. 

Shiro followed Lance for three blocks before Lance disappeared into a nice looking apartment, one Shiro recognized as one of the cheaper and more run down places that still had a great location in town and even better hospitality. 

Shiro leaned back on a storefront across the way, learned the store hours for a quick moment before his eyes were tracking every window. 

From the little grid of dark windows sealed shut with curtains, a light stuttered to life. 

Shiro had pulled his camera up by now, pointing it at the window to see in closer. A slender shadow tracked in the room, milling around before the light became dimmer. 

Shiro guessed a lamp was turned on in place of overhead lights. When no more movement shifted the curtains, Shiro snapped a few pictures, close up of the window and then of the front of the complex, to keep the address for safekeeping. Not like he would forget it anyway. 

Shiro stayed until the light went out, until the second light (Lance’s bedroom, Shiro figured out) went out as well. 

And then he stayed an extra hour, just to make sure, just to feel like he was there with Lance while he fell asleep. 

* * *

Shiro began to spend his lunch breaks watching Lance. Every new picture he got was precious and unique. 

He loved when Lance was focused on his work, or if he happened to be laughing at something funny Hunk or Pidge said. His two closest friends. Hunk worked at the cafè with Lance and Pidge worked at a tech store down the road. 

Lance worked every day except Saturdays, his lunch was typically taken from 1 to 2, he closed the cafè on Wednesdays and Thursdays and headed home thirty minutes early on Fridays. 

With the month that followed, Shiro watching Lance every day he could, even taking time from work, Shiro amassed thousands of pictures. Pictures of the most mundane things, and pictures of Lance in his room, sleeping, dancing, naked. 

Shiro wanted to tell Lance to keep his bedroom curtains closed more often, to keep that window shut and locked and not cracked open. It was dangerous, anyone could have been watching him, Lance was so beautiful, he was so perfect that Shiro believed everyone was out to have Lance as well. 

Instead of telling Lance to shut his windows and lock his door, Shiro began to talk to Lance in a friendly way, to make him more comfortable. 

When he had first texted Lance, he kept his name hidden from Lance. 

They spent their first hour texting going back and forth about Shiro’s name. 

Finally, finally, after weeks, Shiro agreed to say it if Lance would call him. The call had connected and Shiro said, I’ll tell you my name if you meet me in the park tomorrow night. I hear the stars are really pretty. 

The smile he heard in Lance’s reply had Shiro smiling as well, rolling over in his bed to look at his newest string of photos, preciously hung along his wall. He would have to take them down soon. Take more to replace them. 

Lance didn’t give Shiro an opportunity to end the call, instead, Lance excitedly talked about astronomy, how perfect it was that Shiro would take him to see the stars. 

“Now don’t go getting any ideas.” 

“You’re too late, mystery man. My ideas have built monumentally.” 

Shiro hummed at that and shut his eyes, just listening to the little noise that came through the line. 

“Hey?” 

Lance broke the silence, the sound of sheets rustling signaling Lance’s movement, either sitting up or rolling over in bed. He always looked peaceful and beautiful in his sheets, pale blue sheets that had little golden stars and stitched lines on them to form constellations. 

Shiro didn’t know how Lance acquired them, just that he valued those sheets dearly, yet whenever he got too hot on a humid night with the window cracked open, he would carelessly kick them off his body. 

“Still here, Lance.” 

“Um. I don’t mean to flake out on you or anything but tomorrow night isn’t actually the best time…” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Uh, I totally forgot that I have class tomorrow night.” 

Shiro frowned, feeling not only pulled around in a loop, but also angry that he didn’t know something about Lance. 

“Class? Like, you’re in summer school?” 

“No no no. Class like. Uhh. It’s an extracurricular class. Don’t worry about it,” Lance sounded rushed, and in the background there were frantic, hushed whispers, “hey, I gotta go, okay?”

Shiro barely had time to part his lips and think of a goodbye before the line went dead. 

_ Lance is a liar _ , he thought,  _ a terrible liar _ . Shiro thought how dare Lance lie to him like that, he should feel comfortable with him, to be fully honest with everything. Granted, he still didn’t know Shiro’s name, but they had talked so much! 

No, Lance had to be in trouble. And if he was in trouble, Shiro needed to do something about it. 

That night was when Shiro decided just pictures wouldn’t do anymore, that Shiro could no longer peacefully watch Lance from the sidelines. 

* * *

Shiro waited, patiently, because as he always told himself,  _ patience yields focus _ . And focus brings him to find the perfect opportunity to make the night go well.

The roads were clear tonight, most people going out to begin their nights partying and bar hopping and drinking. 

But Shiro was checking in to Lance’s apartment, room 503, he remembered. 

The front clerk at the desk frowned at him when he asked for a key, frantically saying he had lost it and would do whatever it was to pay it back in full. 

The woman sitting at the front smiled sympathetically and said, “Sweetheart it’s fine. People lose their keys all the time.” She took her time to lean back and search through the wall of keys behind her before pulling a ring off from the top corner. 

It had multiple keys on it, but the woman took one off, handing it to Shiro. 

It would do him a whole load of nothing if he couldn’t get into the room before Lance came in. He was getting off of work soon, and if Shiro knew Lance, the barista would head straight home, wanting to shower and then sit on his couch for two hours while listening to music. 

That was his favorite time to watch Lance, relaxed, hair dripping softly on his shoulders and neck. 

Shiro shook himself from his daydreaming and sent the woman a wave, “thank you so much.”

Taking the stairs, Shiro got up to Lance’s floor in no time, turning right into it once he got into the hallways. 

The key slipped into the keyhole and turned, the lock sliding undone with a click and Shiro felt giddy with excitement. It would be the first time in Lance’s apartment, the first time Shiro could see it all up close and not through a viewfinder on a roof or down from the street. 

It was dark when Shiro opened the door, but he already knew where the light switch was, already knew where the furniture was as well. There would be no need for Shiro to turn on any lights, he wouldn’t want to startle Lance. 

With the door locked behind him, Shiro moved through the small apartment with every intent to burn the details into his mind, he’d left his camera at home and was now regretting it terribly. 

Shiro glanced at his watch and cursed at himself, Lance would be home in five minutes, maybe less if he’d not been held up by traffic. 

There were no places to really hide, but Shiro wasn’t here to hide, exactly. He just needed to talk to Lance, to have a face to face conversation and have Lance explain to him why he lied. 

Didn’t they trust each other? Weren't they friends? Didn’t Lance love him? 

The lock on the front door suddenly unlocked with a sharp click and Shiro jumped into action, silently stepping into Lance’s bedroom and easing into his closet behind the door. 

Shiro didn’t want to hide, but there were voices with Lance. And when the door finally opened, Shiro knew it was Hunk and Pidge. 

They were noisy in the living area, someone sitting on the couch with enough force for it to wrench across the floor an inch, Lance shouted something about Pidge being reckless. 

The three’s nonsensical conversations went on for an hour before it grew quiet, replaced by the soft static of Lance’s tv. 

Shiro didn’t want to make himself known, knowing that it would easily be taken the wrong way that he was here. So he had to wait, wait until he and Lance were alone and could talk. 

Three hours passed, and finally, Hunk and Pidge had gone, tired goodnights exchanged between the three friends. 

Shiro wanted to moved from his spot when he heard the door shut again. He was finally alone with Lance. They could finally–

Lance’s bed, not even five feet from where Shiro stood, squeaked loudly. Shiro turned his head, enough to see out if the closet space to find Lance flopped over on his back, arm over his eyes. 

He was snoring, already asleep and still in his clothes for work. 

Shiro watched on in disbelief, wondering what was so tiring that Lance didn’t even wash his face. He had a routine every morning and every night. 

Shiro guessed they really wouldn’t be able to talk tonight, not when Lance was like this and so tired. 

Besides, Shiro already found his answer. Lance had no class, but simply wanted to hang out with his friends. That was okay, it was understandable. But Lance shouldn’t have lied, no, not to Shiro.

Now, Lance’s friends were a threat, a small one, but those were the kind that needed to be watched, able to grow into bigger problems as time went on. 

Shiro took his time tonight, watching Lance up close, his soft breaths, the way he rolled to his side. 

Without noticing it, Shiro was at the side of Lance’s bed, standing over a sleeping Lance with nothing but awe. 

He was so close, so close to Lance that all it would take–

Shiro’s knuckles brushed softly against Lance’s cheek, a whisper of a touch so light that Lance didn’t even twitch. Shiro’s chest was warm and he smiled, fingertips now playing with Lance’s hair. 

Lance made a soft noise, turning over again into Shiro’s touches. It caused the man to yank his hand away and step back, hoping the shadows of the room would keep him hidden. 

But Lance didn’t wake up. Not when Shiro came close again, and not when he leaned down and pressed his lips to Lance’s slack ones. 

Shiro left with barely a noise, locking the door behind him to make sure Lance was safe. With his walk back home, his lips tingled. He’d gotten a kiss from Lance. One that was dangerous and too daring, but a kiss nonetheless! 

Maybe Shiro could forgive Lance just this once. So long as he didn’t betray him again.

* * *

When Shiro got home, he immediately stopped at his bed, hand clutched in the sheets while the other worked on his cock, pumping himself hard and quickly.

His breaths fell heavy from his lips, and as he imagined Lance laying there in front of him, about kissing him one more time, Shiro shot off against his sheets, grunting out a moan. 

* * *

Two more weeks had gone by. Shiro knew that now was the time, Lance was finally ready.

They had stopped talking, Shiro no longer responding to Lance’s calls or texts ever since that night. 

It gave him more time to follow Lance, to find out where he liked to eat often, where Hunk and Pidge lived, where his parents lived. 

Everything was just a precaution. 

Tonight. Tonight was the big night, where Shiro would finally take Lance home with him. 

He’d spent his whole day at the back of the cafè, watching Lance make drinks for the customers, flirt with small groups of girls that came by. 

When it was thirty minutes until closing, Shiro left. His home was already prepared for Lance, so all he needed to do was go to Lance’s apartment. 

He still had the key, used it many many times when he wanted closer pictures of Lance, sleeping peacefully in bed. 

The door opened for him and he locked it back once inside. This time, Shiro took his seat on Lance’s couch. The coffee table on front of him would be able to hold Shiro’s gear. 

Ropes, cloth, and a bottle of chloroform were among the two towels and blindfold. 

Shiro was busy tidying up, a mask over his face and gloves on while he poured the clear liquid onto the cloth, when the door clicked. 

Lance walked in with a tired sigh, keys tossed on the counter with a clang and his bookbag–

Lance had frozen in his spot at the doorway, the small entry leading from the kitchen to the living room. He’d spotted the man sitting on his couch and his heart lurched into his throat. 

Shiro smiled, happy to be seeing Lance again. 

“Who- What the hell are you doing in my apartment?” 

“Shh. Don’t bother your neighbors.” Shiro said, standing up, a gloved finger pressed to his mask. 

Lance stepped back, his bookbag falling to the floor with a thump. He looked terrified, and Shiro didn’t mind that. If it kept him quiet, then Shiro had no problems making himself look bigger, stepping closer, scaring Lance more. 

Lance immediately bolted, turned around to head for his front door but all it took was for Shiro to see Lance’s flinch in the dark. In four long strides Shiro was on top of Lance, pulling the cloth over his mouth and nose as Lance screamed. 

Shiro pulled Lance in hard, hushing him gently against his ear, trying to get him to quiet down, to get him to stop struggling. 

Lance had been trapped in the corner, between the hinges of his door and the wall, unable to back up with a strong body behind him, and unable to breathe with a sickening scent in his nose. 

Shiro’s heart panged for the scared, and small whimpers. The soft noises died down as Lance lost his grip on consciousness, tears wet on his cheeks as he finally slumped back into Shiro’s arms. 

Shiro sighed thankfully, pressing a kiss to Lance’s temple as he held him closer. 

“There. Nothing hard at all. It’s okay, Lance.” 

Shiro dragged Lance back into the living room, careful to set him on the couch. 

Shiro pushed the cloth and bottle back into his bag. Now taking the rope, Shiro bound Lance’s hands in front of him, looped around and around in the form of handcuffs. 

He took Lance’s shoes off next, setting them nicely in his closet. He contemplated bringing some of Lance’s clothes but decided against it, Lance could wear his if he needed to. 

Shiro came back out to the living room, putting Lance’s face washes and his lotions into the duffle bag. 

Once that was done, he hefted the bag onto his shoulder, carefully picking Lance up in his arms. As he left the apartment, he locked the door behind him. 

Lance slept the entire car ride home, head lolled softly against the seat belt, shoulders dipped. Shiro thought he looked cute, so tired after a long day of work. 

He would sleep better in Shiro’s bed, and so would Shiro. 

It was quick work of taking everything into the house. And once Lance was secured to Shiro’s headboard, Shiro got into bed. His stomach was filled with butterflies, excited that he had Lance here with him. That they finally got to sleep together, after waiting so long. 

It was the best night of sleep Shiro had ever got. 

* * *

He woke up to heavy breathing, crying.

The squirming of the warm body next to him wasn’t he issue as much as the noises were. Shiro rolled to the side, peeked an eye open at his clock and sighed. 

5 am. 

“Go back to sleep. I have work today.” Shiro whispered, turning around to see Lance. His eyes were wide, taking in everything around the room but more fixated on the wall of pictures Shiro had on display. 

“Ah. You look gorgeous in every one of those.” Shiro smiled and rolled over to slide an arm around Lance. Every muscle under his arm tensed and Lance cried out. His shoulders wracked with sobs and Shiro finally sat up. 

He didn’t want Lance to be so distressed. And he didn’t fully understand why. Maybe he needed a room of his own, his privacy. 

“I see. I’ll call in sick today. We can work out some living arrangements for you, okay?” 

Lance shook his head no adamantly, yanking on his wrists harder. Shiro hissed at the blood staining the tan ropes, staining his white pillows. 

“Lance! Stop!” 

He reached up and pinned thin wrists down to the bed. Lance squeaked, either in pain or fear, and squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Calm down. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

But Lance wouldn’t listen. He cried harder, body shaking. 

Shiro knew he didn’t have any other option but to sedate Lance before he hurt himself further. 

Reaching over Lance, he pulled a small syringe from the bedside dresser. They had been prepared last night, incase a situation just like this had happened. 

“Please! Please don’t! I-I’ll give you anything you want. Please let me go. Please.” 

Lance hiccuped, meeting Shiro’s eyes. 

Shiro just shook his head and sighed. He uncapped the needle, tapping it to ensure air bubbles were gone, and then gently pushed it into Lance’s arm. 

While he waited for the sedative to run it’s course, Shiro went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, washed his face. 

When he came back, Lance was slumped back into the bed. 

The ropes slipped off easily as Shiro worked his fingers between them. It was saddening to see Lance’s wrists rubbed so raw, but he would just have to wrap them and keep Lance from being restrained. 

This was moving so quickly, Shiro was growing frustrated. He wanted it to go all to plan, wanted everything to be  _ perfect.  _

As he took Lance downstairs into the basement, he shuddered at the thought of  _ him _ . He didn’t want Lance to end up like that. No. He would make sure Lance was safe. 

The metal shackle was lined with soft cotton and leather, not able to allow chafing or injury. The hard steel chain led into an eyelet in the wall, strong enough to hold Shiro up if he tugged on it. 

It fit softly around Lance’s ankle and Shiro left Lance on the soft bed, covering him with the blankets to keep him warm. 

Shiro stayed with Lance the rest of the day, to ensure he would sleep peacefully and comfortably. 

They would have a long chat when Lance next woke up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is high possibility for this fic to be completely rewritten, more details added in, longer draw out so it's not all squished together.  
> Also! There will be a second chapter to this, most likely, I am unsure when I'll get to it though.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a full chapter! I am putting this fic on an indefinite hiatus. But I know I promised fleshing this out some more, however I completely lost all motivation to do it.  
> This is what I had drafted so far for the second chapter, it is only half the length of what it should be but once again, I literally lost all my motivation to write this anymore. So sorry :(

_ thump, thump, thump _

That’s what woke Lance up. The rhythmic pounding of drums. 

_ thump-thump, thump-thump, _

They were loud in his ears, so close that he could feel the bass of it in his chest, in his head, in his fingertips and toes. 

_ thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, _

When he opened his eyes, barely getting a glimpse of a dark and dirty ceiling, the drums roared louder, as if the beating from before was just a warm up. It verged into pain, Lance gasping at the feeling that maybe he was the drum being beaten, pounded with heavy hammers to rattle him to his core. 

There were then fingers at his neck, cold and dry and the firm press of them on his pulse helped Lance breathe against the drums. 

His heartbeat.

It took a moment of clarity to realize he wasn’t hearing drums but feeling his heart pound in his chest like a fist banging on a door, begging to be let out. 

There was someone trying to talk to him, muffled and slurred behind the still pulsing drumbeats. Lance kept his eyes closed, hoping that maybe they would go away, maybe if they stopped talking then his headache would stop too. 

Something sharp dug into the soft flesh of his side and he suddenly had no choice in the matter; his eyes flew open, a choked noise stuck in his throat as the sensation of wanting to throw up overcame his voice. 

He was sure a knife was being wedged into his side, pushed in deep and twisting around; Lance looked down, saw Shiro above him, eyes gleaming, a hard edge to the way his lips curved up, eyes crinkled at the edges. His lips were moving and Lance couldn’t hear anything, nothing but that infuriating thumping of his own pulse. 

He followed Shiro’s arm down with his eyes, saw that it wasn’t a knife being jammed into him but Shiro’s hand holding him just above a hip, fingers so tight that his skin was dipping where the man’s fingertips pressed. He didn’t have the mind to think about how terrible it would bruise, if Shiro kept it up there would be no skin there to bruise, no muscle to be sore and damaged, Shiro would rip it away from him. 

Lance let out a miserable noise, at once trying to bring a hand down to pry away Shiro’s own, the fingers digging into his flesh, but his shoulders flexed and his arms didn’t go anywhere. Stuck in the same position they were in above him. 

Now that he was aware of it, his wrists hurt too, not as bad as Shiro touching him but it was pretty close. 

Lance was now coming back to his senses, an eerie feeling as if he were floating back down into himself. His next point of pain was his ankle, something firmly holding into his right ankle. Shiro was blocking his view from where he was kneeling over him. 

“-n’t leave me. You’re not a selfish person, Lance.” 

Was murmured to him, sounding mean behind grit teeth. 

Lance felt like he couldn’t concentrate, he should have asked what Shiro was talking about or maybe he should have been panicked but he felt empty, hollow. Even when his head fell back and he blankly looked at his arms, saw the gauze wrapped around his wrists and cotton-covered handcuffs around them, there was no difference in that calm he felt. Shiro’s other hand was on the chain in the middle of them, keeping Lance from pulling them down. 

He still felt strange; why wasn’t he panicking right now? He knew last night that was why he’d been put down here. He’d panicked, lost control of himself and Shiro drugged him and-

_ thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, _

His pulse was beginning to rise now, realization of what really happened yesterday starting to clear his head. Shiro had followed him home. 

No, Shiro had  _ broken into his apartmen _ t and waited for him there. Cornered him, kidnapped him, tied him to his bed and tried to act like it was nothing. 

Lance wondered where his phone was, if Hunk was looking for him, if Pidge wondered where he was. Their group chat was always started with Lance sending something in the morning. He tried to reason with himself that they would be looking for him right now, checking at his work, his apartment, something. 

Right, he was supposed to work today. He didn’t know what time it was, the dull concrete walls around him were bare, not a clock or even a poster to break up the imposing grey. Was he late for work? Would anyone notice? 

He looked back to Shiro again, his head feeling heavy and eyes dropping as he tried to ask Shiro where they were, what was going on. But his head kept going forward and his grip on reality slipped right through his fingers. 

* * *

Shiro watched as Lance passed out again. He was beautiful, blue eyes wide and glossy, confusion so clear in his gaze when he looked around the room and then at Shiro as if he wasn’t really awake.

The cuffs on Lance’s wrists were almost as beautiful, the chain hooked into the wall, keeping Lance still, body stretched out for Shiro’s gaze to roam. When Lance has looked up at his own hands, expression unchanging as if he didn’t understand what was going on, Shiro had tried to tell Lance it was for his safety, but it seemed that the boy didn’t hear him. 

Shiro wasn’t worried when Lance’s hed dropped again. It wasn’t the first time he’d woken up and then went right back to sleep. Shiro had been here to watch Lance in case he needed anything. Shiro wanted to make sure Lance was comfortable when he woke up, no longer being in a bed. 

Shiro had been so disappointed when Lance wouldn’t cooperate. Maybe it was just Lance being nervous, Shiro couldn’t hold that against him. Shiro’s previous partner had been nervous too. He had been so much like Lance until he grew to understand Shiro wasn't going to hurt him.

Shiro frowned, thinking about  _ him _ always put Shiro in a bad mood. Lance was different. Lance would be better for him. Lance was sweet and smiled at Shiro when he talked to him. 

Lance’s flirts and slight glances in the coffee shop had kept Shiro coming back for more. 

He reached out and cupped Lance’s cheek, fingertips smoothing over the flawless skin, brushing back soft strands of hair that had fallen forward from behind his ear. 

“We’ll work on getting you to a shower tomorrow, I know how much you like to be clean and pretty. I really admire that about you Lance. You always take such good care of yourself,” Shiro came closer, lifting the unconscious boy’s head so he could look at his face better. 

“You’ll let me take care of you now won’t you? You work so hard, you deserve to have a break.”

There was no need for Lance to work himself down, to burn out or have no one look after him. His so called friends were flawed, never really noticing when Lance was upset or not genuinely happy. Shiro knew. Shiro always knew. 

Until Lance woke up again, Shiro would have to sit here and wait. He didn’t mind waiting, he was patient. It gave Shiro time to think about what he needed to do for the next few days. He already called into work to say he would be out of the office for a week. 

That was a phone call he didn’t have a fun time handling. Matt’s voice yelling at him through the phone about responsibilities and having a duty to the company was too much and for the first time in forever Shiro was the one arguing back to Matt, voice raised and nerves on edge. 

He could take the time out of his vacation hours. He had plenty to spare. He would leave Matt to help him file it officially later. 

Shiro’s thoughts wandered back to Lance for the moment. What would he think of Shiro’s job? Shiro had yet to tell Lance much more about himself. He liked the tease, liked that Lance was curious enough to keep trying to press Shiro for more details about his life. 

Lance wanted him, to know about his life and to be in it. Shiro was helping him fulfill those wishes. 

Within the next two hours Lance wakes up again. It’s a slow process this time, Lance flickering in and out of consciousness, head picking up then softly rolling back on his shoulder. His lips keep moving, delirious mumbling of nonsense Shiro can’t make out. 

He likes watching the light come back to Lance’s eyes. That hazy fog clears up and Lance becomes more and more aware of his surroundings, the room and shiro. He’s once again looking up at the manacles with confusion and a blush creeping up on his cheeks. 

“Good morning, again.” Shiro chuckles, bad mood from before vanquished and gone. Shiro rests a warm hand on Lance’s calf, slipping up to his knee and Lance flinches hard enough that the chains clink gently. 

His eyes have grown wild, pupils dilating once again as he watches Shiro’s hand and then looks at him once more. He won’t make eye contact, the first time he tries tears well up at the edges of his vision. 

“What-“ Lance starts and then stops, chewing on his lip as if he’s carefully mulling over what he’s tryin to ask or say, “what do you want?” 

Shiro’s head tilts, a bit confused himself by what Lance means. Doesn’t Lance know? Shiro made it so obvious. 

“I’ve only ever wanted you.” He says genuinely, softly, lovingly. He smiles himself at his confession. It feels good to actually say it out loud to Lance. Even though he should know. Lance knows. 

The boy sitting in front of him flinches, bottom lip wobbling and then he glances at the stairs behind Shiro. He’s ignoring him. Shiro knows what being ignored feels like. He’s not fond of it. 

Maybe he’s still a bit worked up from his call with Matt earlier this morning, but his hand snaps out to grabs Lance by the chin and force him to look at him. Lance flinches at his touch, flinches when he meets Shiro’s eyes, and there’s fear there that Shiro isn’t comprehending because Lance is  _ safe _ here with him. Shiro won’t ever hurt Lance. 

“Is that not the answer you wanted?” He asks. Shiro’s genuinely curious. What does Lance want him to say? He wants to know, to make Lance happy and smile at him again. 

“I told you the truth, Lance, I would never lie to you. I don’t want anything but you.” Shiro leans in closer, aching to kiss Lance again. He remembers the first time he did, Lance still sleeping and relaxed. His lips were so warm, soft and unchapped. 

But Lance turns away from him at the last second, his shoulders are shaking slightly and a tear slips down his face when he stares at the opposite wall. Shiro settles for kissing Lance’s cheek since it’s there. 

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up. We have a lot to do.” 

Shiro gently wipes the tear away with the back of his fingers and stands up, going to grab the key to the restraints. 

It’s taking everything for Lance to not start crying. He was holding it together for a good bit of time until Shiro had come closer. His intent was very clear and he moved slow enough for Lance to deny him. 

It didn’t make him feel any better. It was a freedom that Shiro gave him. In reality, if Shiro wanted to kiss him there was nothing and no one to stop him. 

Lance felt powerless, even with his mouth free. He didn’t know what he would be doing if his mouth was covered. Talking was his way to deal with a situation that heckled his nerves. 

His heart had yet to calm down and as he watched his kidnapper, Shiro, sweet, nice, business professional Shiro, mill around the room the sinking feeling in his stomach grew stronger. 

No one knew he was down here but Shiro. Unless he had an accomplice to help but Shiro had never told him about a roommate. 

Then again, Shiro never told him or gave signs that one day he’d snatch Lance right from the comfort and safety of his own little apartment. 

Shiro had carefully unlocked Lance after a few stern words, “if you try and hurt me it’s not going to end well, I’m trying to help you,” and “I brought over your face washes, I’ll leave you in the bathroom to do your routine, I know it takes you a bit, but don’t take too long, okay?”

The lump in Lance’s throat had only constricted and choked him more. 

There was no arguing when Shiro stood him up and motioned to the stairs. Lance looked at Shiro with distrust and disbelief. Was he seriously going to let Lance go up the stairs? Lance didn’t move for a moment and the two stared at each other until Shiro huffed a short laugh and took Lance’s hand.

“Right, sorry. I should show you the place, you don’t know where anything is.”

Fingers laced with his and Shiro’s hand was warm. His hands were soft as if he never really did any sort of hard work or he took really good damn care of them. 

Lance had imagined holding Shiro’s hand before. Maybe they would have gone to the park with free coffee and secretive jokes they could laugh about together on a bench, watching the day go on. 

Or maybe they would have held hands watching the stars.

But now Lance felt his skin crawl with his hand in Shiro’s. He could feel how clammy and cold his own fingers were; it makes Shiro’s hand feel hot, hotter when he squeezes gently and starts walking. 

Lance felt his feet shake. It was wrong. This was  _ wrong _ . He should have felt happy that he would be going upstairs, out of this concrete box, but the dread sunk in harder the further towards the stairs he went. Shiro was a hard force that he couldn’t stop. Dragging him along when Lance showed the slightest of hesitance. 

When they reached the top of the stairs Lance was both relieved and scared. His mouth was dry and he was becoming hyper aware of the ache in his foot now, the one that had been shackled up. 

Would he be able to outrun Shiro? 

The door opened, letting light from the hallway in. They stepped out of the basement.

Would Shiro catch him? Would the shock of Lance breaking out of his hold and running surprise him?

Shiro was talking, pointing to one end of the hall, “living room, kitchen,” and then to the other end, it was dark, “bedrooms.” 

Shiro kept talking. Saying something Lance wasn’t tuned into. His attention had honed in on the bright end of the hallway. Living room and kitchen he had said. It was the way the front door must have been too. 

Lance didn’t have his shoes, would he be able to make it far? Did Shiro live somewhere populated? If he got out could he scream for help?

“Lance?”

Blinking, he fixed his attention on Shiro again, chewing on his lip. 

“Did you hear me?” 

He shook his head. No. No he hadn’t even been paying attention. 

“I said you can shower if you want or we can work on dinner. It’s your pick.” 

Lance didn’t know what sparked it. What made him yank himself free from Shiro’s hand. It wasn’t hard, Shiro wasnt holding onto him as tightly anymore. And he was more focused on Lance’s face anyway. So Lance yanked, wrenched his body weight into it and then spun around to run. 

After his second step he knew something was wrong. Something had happened to his legs. They felt like they were stuffed with wood, stiff and unbendable even as he barrelled down the hallway. 

Front door. All he had to do was open it. Get out. Scream for help. Get the attention of someone. 

He reached the end of the hall and instead of the excitement he expected to see the front door, Lance felt all of his hope die. The frustration and fear and anger gave way to tears as he stumbled to a halt in Shiro’s bedroom. 

The room was bright, the overhead light a bit wobbly as the fan whirled around and around, making barely a hum. The sheets had been made back up, fluffy dark grey comforter pulled straight and pillows propped up on the headboard. The walls were a bland beige, as if Shiro never bothered to repaint when he moved in. 

It didn’t make sense. Shiro had said this way was to the living room. 

“I thought I would be able to trust you.” Shiro said behind him. 

Lance flinched, taking a step back when he turned around. Shiros steely gaze felt like iron grips on his lungs. 

He lied. Shiro lied. Shiro tricked him and- 

Lance stepped back into the room to distance himself and Shiro followed. The cat and mouse game didn't last long, Shiro finally grabbing Lance’s upper arm and dragging him back towards the door. 

“Let’s go the right way, follow me this time. Don’t go off on your own.” 

Shiro gently urged him into the bathroom when they were back in the hall.

The door shutting behind Lance was loud. He turned around hearing the click of a lock, finding that the door had no handle for him to use to open the door and the metal circle of the lock was covered in plated metal; from the looks of it, there wasn’t any way this door could be functional from the inside. 

“Just knock when you're finished and I’ll come get you. Take all the time you need.” 

The sound of fading footsteps let Lance know he was truly alone. Again. He stood staring at the door for a moment, wondering if this was another test. But Shiro didn’t show up. 

Turning around, Lance finally took in the rest of the bathroom. He first thought about finding something sharp he could use. A razor, a hairbrush, hell, he’d even use a toothbrush. But it was like the room was baby proofed times ten. There was nothing in the bathroom. The shower curtain was missing, not even the hooks it would be on were there. The shower rod too was missing along with the toilet lid and the faces of the cabinets. 

When Lance opened the few drawers by the sink he discovered them to be empty. 

The only things in this bathroom were the numerous bottles of soap on the sink counter along with a small tube of toothpaste. 

The mirror even looked weird. The edges were rimmed with a thick metal, which Lance discovered was plastic. 

He thought that he could take a towel and punch the glass, like how he’s seen so many times in the movies and tv shows he’s watched, but the mirror didn’t shatter. It felt similar to the plastic framing, warping slightly whenever Lance hit it again with his fist wrapped in the towel. 

Suddenly there were two knocks on the door, making Lance jump. 

“Are you okay in there?”

Staring at the door, Lance glanced at the shower, at the toilet, the sink. He had nothing. 

“Lance?” 

The click of the doorknob twisting make Lance’s heart ratchet into his throat and he shoved his hand on the door, the metal plate where the handle should have been was cold. 

“I-I’m fine!, I’m getting into the shower.” 

If Shiro saw the towel wrapped around his hand what would he think? What would he  _ do _ ? Lance’s frantic brain couldn’t even think about it. He just knew he needed to keep Shiro out, buy him more time to think and make a plan. Not to mention be more quiet, the punches must have alerted Shiro that Lance was up to something. 

Lance pulled the towel away and turned the shower on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a full chapter! I am putting this fic on an indefinite hiatus. But I know I promised fleshing this out some more, however I completely lost all motivation to do it.  
> This is what I had drafted so far for the second chapter, it is only half the length of what it should be but once again, I literally lost all my motivation to write this anymore. So sorry :(


End file.
